Strangers Are No Danger
by thebritishgirlchild
Summary: Alfred was in line to run Jones's clothes, Kirkland ribbons is competition. At a business convention, he is warned by his father of Arthur. Then, something drastic happens; the government is up to something and Arthur is the only one to offer help.


"Arthur." My father said curtly to the business man before us, giving a small nod in recognition as he held out his hand for the young man to take. Arthur shook Father's hand, lowering his own head out of politeness.

"John Jones!" He replied, a smug smile spread across his face as he straightened up, pulling his dark fingerless gloves up his hands a little,

"I never thought I'd run into you so soon, this place sure is busy!"

What he said was true. My Father and I were currently looking around the fourth container filled with the latest things for the business; and still we found no place to sit. My legs were starting to ache, if I was frank; and I silently willed my father to move away from this boy so I could seize the bench I'd been eyeing up for the last five minutes.

"Yes, well..." Father started, although he seemed unable to finish his sentence. "Where is your father, Arthur? Is he not suppose to be the one attending these events?" He asked, a prominent scowl on his face. Arthur let out a sly chuckle, at the same time sending me a a glance that made my spine shiver. I could tell that there was something between this older teen and my Father; and it probably shouldn't be delved into. However, I would be lying if I said my curiosity wasn't dying to find out what it was.

" He's currently away, sorting out foreign exports, Dear John. I should suppose he will be back in around two days, that is, if things go smoothly in China. Why? Would you be wishing to speak to him? If you'd like, I could take a message."

"No, no need. Please, Arthur; let us not hold you up." My Father interrupted, holding his hand out once again, "It's a pleasure to see you again. As always."

Arthur stared at the hand for a second, his eyebrows raised at the sudden gesture. But his confused disposition disappeared as soon as it came, and he took Father's hand with a firm shake; a smile on his face. My father smiled back, naturally, and I nodded my head towards Arthur as Father lead me away.

"Don't trust that boy, Alfred. You hear?" My father murmured in my ear, as we sat down onto the bench that had luckily not been taken during the short and awkward converse between him and Arthur. A sigh escaped Father's lips as he sat down, then he slouched and leant against the back of the bench, lifted his top hat and wiped his forehead with an un-gloved hand.

"These business conventions are more bother than they are use, sometimes." He complained, restoring his composure by sitting up straight and returning his hat to his head and glove to his hand. "Never would I think I'd see him, that Arthur, of all people. He's recently gotten out of gaol, you know? Some dastardly crime, on top of that; a seven year sentence."

My eyebrows furrowed, but I did not look towards my father. It did not surprise me that the man I'd just met had been a criminal; the glint in his eye as he left Father speechless was quite the giveaway. What made my eyebrows furrow was another feed to my curiosity. Was our family involved in Arthur's imprisonment? Father sure seemed annoyed with him; possibly too much so for a humble business partner. Although, Arthur had returned to fit into the aristocrat scene reasonably quickly, I thought. For one, he was dressed remarkably well, in white and dark-blue pinstriped trousers and a dark twin tail jacket that could easily be in the same price range as my tailored waistcoat. How is it possible that someone just out of a privilege-less cell can appear well composed just like that? For one, shouldn't the people around be wary of him if he was a supposedly 'master' criminal?

"Alfred? Alfred! Out of your dream land, son!" Father huffed, tapping underneath my chin with the back of his hand. I turned my head towards him and smiled an apology; Father tutted and took a glance to his fob-watch,

"The stocks information is being displayed in a minute, you may stay here, if you wish. I trust you, boy. Don't run off; don't talk to strangers and all that malarkey." He said, pushing his hands on his knees as a boost to stand up, placing his fob-watch back into his pocket.

"Father, I'm sixteen; quite unlikely to do anything irresponsible, am I?" I sighed with a grin. Father always became over-cautious once Mother is not around; and things like this had become a some-what routine.

"You never know with your generation! " He chuckled then waddled off, his cane tucked under an arm.

I sat for a while, people spotting. One lady I saw dragged a taller man that was most likely her husband, or a suitor, from stall to stall. Another man took long, meaningful strides between them; his chin raised high as he inspected the merchandise; but not actually stopping to inspect further.

'I don't understand these events.' I thought to myself as a different aristocrat was stopped abruptly in his tracks by a stall assistant; a leaflet promptly flashed in his direction, then allowed to move along once again. Perhaps it's because I'm not actually involved in running the family business yet; but I see not a single advantage from being packed into humongous metal rooms whilst peering at stall after stall, of most likely useless equipment to aid the progress of your business, then the only thing you bring home is a wad of leaflets and a few vouchers that you'll never use.

Father has made it a tri-yearly tradition that him and I attend 'Gilbly's sleekiest deviancies.' and not once have I enjoyed it. My reason for being here is to pick up skills that my father has gained for the business that will one day be passed onto me. However, I cannot push through crowds as well as my father, whose rather circular appearance can act as a sort of plough for the people; so sitting on a bench by my lonesome has also become a tri-yearly tradition.

Suddenly, a figure placed itself beside me in the place my Father had previously occupied. Taking a glance out of curiosity, the figure turned out to be none other that Arthur. I decided to ignore him at first, Father's words still mildly taking impact to my actions. Instead, I shuffled slightly away from him, as stealthily as I could.

However, a small laugh came in turn of my action and caused me to mentally slap myself for creating such attention. Arthur kept his eyes on the people and with a smile he smugly said,

"Alfred Jones, you surely don't think I bite, do you child?"

I turned to face him now, irritated and wanting to show Arthur that I was not afraid of him nor should be treated like a child,

"Why would I think that? And who said you could use my name like that? To you it's Master Jones, heir of the Jones's Clothes, and nothing otherwise."

Arthur raised an eyebrow above his swept fringe and retorted with ease,

"With the way your Father is going, you won't know what the difference is between stocks and exchange rates; let alone be able to run a business."

I opened my mouth to answer back, but Arthur stood up, taking his cane in his hand; and looked down at me, smug grin still intact,

"Here, Jones. Let me show you how to sell." He offered his hand to mine, but I ignored it and stood up impudently. 'How dare he consider me unequal? I bet he's not that older than me.' I thought, but, lest, I was still doing as Arthur said; perhaps because I knew that Father wasn't really being serious about training me for the life as a business man. Arthur drew his head back in mild annoyance that I didn't take his hand like planned, but quickly moved on, his smile returning as he slid over to a girl in her young teens, pondering over two items; one of which had 'Jones's clothing' labelled on the side.

'So that's what Father gains from being here...' I realised as Arthur indicated for me to stay where I was and listen in. He gave the girl and charming smile and gently took the, which I realised was in fact a ribbon, marked 'Jones's Clothes' and tossed it behind him; whilst doing so, taking the girl's hand with the other ribbon and bowing down to bring into a gentlemanly kiss.

"Hello, love. You don't want to buy that other ribbon, trust me. The company that makes them are not the best." He said as he stood up.

'Huh! The cheek of him!' I huffed, once again, Arthur giving me a glance that turned into a 'Holier-than-thou' smirk once he saw my annoyed face. The girl Looked between the ribbon and Arthur, a blush spread across her face,

"But my brother would prefer the other one. It's cheaper and he loves to save money!" She said meekly, her eyes shifting worriedly to the ribbon thrown on the floor.

"Pysh, nonsense. That one would not suit a beautiful girl like you in the slightest! You see, this one matches your eyes and blends with your hair deliciously." He said, leaning over to raise the ribbon to the girl's hair, his face awfully close to her cheek. 'Delicious? What's with that adjective?' I thought, frowning once again. 'And don't stand for his actions, lady! Throw him one!' Although, despite the close proximity between the two, the girl blushed more and smiled cutely, nodding all flustered,

"Why thank you kind Sir! I-I will buy this one then!" She said taking out her carmine coloured, silk purse that matched her dress. Arthur took the money and tied the ribbon in her hair, a smile graced upon his head.

"May I ask your name?" Arthur asked, taking the girl's hand once again.

"Lilli, Lilli Zwingli."

"Well, Lilli." Arthur smiled and once again bowed to kiss her hand, "Pleasure doing business with you." And with that, he sauntered back to me, the encounter with Lilli completely disregarded by the time he got back.

Arthur and I sat back down on the bench and I immediately fumed at him,

"You said you were going to help me learn business, not how to charm innocent young ladies! And why did you throw my business' ribbon away! You're meant to be helping me!"

Arthur smirked again and the sheer look crawled under my skin.

"Alfred, why help you when I could help my own business? Kirkland ribbons needs business, too. And I was teaching you business. It's all about the charm. Charm," He turned his head into a considering pose, his eyes glinting, "and surviving in the business battlefield."

As if on cue, a screech came from the vast metal roof above us. The sound was deafening, metal upon metal, and the light outside flooded the container we were in.

"What's happening?" I asked desperately, my eyes flicking all around the room; catching glimpse after glimpse of aristocrats and stall minders thrown into panic. Not sure on what to do with themselves, the room was full of un-civilised anarchy as platform lowered down into the room through the gaping hole that once was a roof. People clothed in black suits piled in from the platform, large packs on their backs with symbols unknown to me printed across the side. But there was one word I did see, 'Gilby's'.

I sat with panic, too confused on what to as gas was sprayed in the direction of running people; who, after being hit, fell down to the floor unconscious.

Arthur seemed at ease, however. He stood up and clutched his cane, that annoyingly smug smirk still brandished across his face,

" Let me demonstrate what I meant by business warfare."


End file.
